


Home

by DaisyDogOx (orphan_account)



Category: Don't Starve (Video Game)
Genre: Both Wilson and Willow are of decent ages, Drama, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Post-Canon, Post-Series, Survivor AU, The gang makes it off the magical island, Time Skips, Willow was an asylum patient, Wilson talks to himself, because fuck Klei I want to ship them
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-21
Updated: 2017-07-21
Packaged: 2018-12-04 21:57:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,681
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11564139
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/DaisyDogOx
Summary: The cabin leaned a bit more than he remembered and had yellow police tape strung across it, but it was his house all the same. He was back. But where were the others?





	Home

He didn't know what happened. One minute he was telling Woodie why wooden walls were a fire hazard and reminding him _we kept Willow because she's a person it's different from walls stop being ridiculous_ and the next he was laying face down in the mud with the rain soaking him. He reached for the umbrella he always kept in his backpack and came up empty. The bag itself wasn't there. _I've been robbed!_ he thought somewhat indignantly. _We're the only ones out here and one of them had the audacity to mug me while I was unconscious! Why did I pass out in the first place?_

He got to his feet and nearly collapsed again at the sight in front of him. The cabin leaned a bit more than he remembered and had yellow police tape strung across it, but it was his house all the same. He was back.

He ran to the gate, slipping a few times, and unlocked it with shaky hands. The key was in his pocket as it had been before the whole mess started. Only then did he notice the stack of mail piled high. The letters on top were dated a few months earlier. He didn't dare look at the oldest.

Only once he was inside and the door was locked did the realization hit him. He was _home_. Had the whole ordeal been a nightmare after he fainted out front? The postmarked letters said otherwise, as did the condemned sign on the gate.

He stumbled to the kitchen and collapsed in the nearest chair. He was alive and he was free–!

He needed to contact the others. Needed to know if they got out as well. He didn't know their full names or addresses... He had no way of knowing.

He was thinking too far ahead. What he needed in that moment was to eat some real food and take a proper shower. Yes, a shower would do him wonders.

* * *

 

He slicked back his hair and checked his reflection in the hall mirror. _Wilson, you're a gentleman and a scientist and you just survived who knows how long on an island that was trying to kill you. You can go into town and buy some groceries._

He started towards the door but hesitated as he got close again, digging his nails into his palm. _You're being ridiculous! It's simply some errands because all your food spoiled! And this time you don't have to worry about skinning it yourself!_

Taking a deep breath to steel his nerves, he opened the door and began to walk down the path.

Only to turn back halfway there. Curse his introverted nature.

"You're being pathetic," he snapped, not caring he was talking to himself.

He forced himself to walk. _One foot in front of the other. You can do this. You'll be fine. Yes, you're doing it! Now all you have to do is make it to the market and–_

His wallet was at the house. He hadn't used money in so long he'd nearly forgotten. Yes, this was going to be a difficult process.

* * *

 

"The raspberries as well, please."

"Anything else?" the vendor asked gruffly.

"N-No, that will be all." He tried to figure out how much he'd bought but the man simply took his wallet and took what he needed.

"Next!"

He was trying to remember if people had always been so demanding and overbearing when he walked straight into a newspaper display, spilling them everywhere. "Oh, sorry! L-Let me help with that!"

The man gave him a dark look and he backed up, slipping on a few loose sheets and hitting the ground. It was then he saw the headline. _**Local Man Presumed Dead**_. "How much for a paper?" he asked weakly.

The vendor grunted and wadded up one of the ruined papers, throwing it at him. "Get out of here."

He scrambled to his feet again and dodged through the crowd, only stopping when he reached the edge of the market. _**Local Man Presumed Dead**_ , he read. _A strange series of disappearances occurred a few years ago, known only as The Carter Disappearances due to the first victims being William Carter and his assistant Charlie. Carter was a renowned magician known better by his stage name The Amazing Maxwell. Some time after shut-in scientist Wilson Higgsbury was nowhere to be found and was declared missing. It is unknown if he had any relation to Carter or not. Investigations turned up no results and all three have been formally declared dead. See 'Missing' on Page 4 for the full story._

_They think I'm dead. They don't know I'm alive._

He read the article again. _Years... I don't know what year it is! How old am I? How much time has passed?_

He nearly broke down in tears but forced himself to take a deep breath and put his shoulders back. He was stronger than this. He'd survived the island. Besides, this meant he had a fresh start. He could reinvent himself so people wouldn't cross the street when they saw him or hold their children closer. Yes, this could be good for him. If necessary he could even lay low for awhile. He knew how to survive on just about anything now.

He crumpled the paper once more and grabbed his groceries. His first order of business was to take down that police tape at home and find out where the others were. Then he would figure out what to do.

* * *

 

He was really starting to hate the rain. It came out of nowhere and ruined his hair. Again.

He was huddled under a tree, praying the leaves didn't drop their contents on his head. Again. That was the problem with being a part of civilization again. On the island it didn't matter if it rained because he couldn't fix his hair even if he wanted to. Now that he had the ability to do so, it bothered him when he'd just fixed it that morning and it got ruined.

His thoughts were interrupted as lightning flashed overhead and he flinched. The whole ordeal reminded him of the night he made the deal with Maxwell. He needed to get out of the rain and away from the woods. He noticed faint prints in the mud that might've been from someone's shoes. Hopefully not an animal.

 _You don't have any better options. You're also talking to yourself so what's the worst that could happen?_ He followed the tracks away from the tree and deeper into the woods.

Before long he found himself making twists and turns as the prints wound their way around trees. He was starting to suspect it was an animal but had come too far to give up.

Especially when there was a sign stuck in the ground not far to his right, along with a worn dirt road.

**Rainbow Times**

**1 Mile**

"Rainbow Times," he scoffed. "It sounds like the rejected name for an amusement park.

Then he smelled the smoke. He broke into a run and ignored the searing pain in his side. _It's as though I haven't gained any endurance,_ Wilson realized. _My physical condition is as though I wasn't trapped at all. How curious... I must run some tests later._

The smoke got thicker in the air and he saw a glow ahead, and he pushed through the low hanging branches into a clearing. A building was smoldering but the more pressing issue was the person shaped silhouette in front of the wreckage. They seemed dangerously close to the flames and he forced himself to keep running, tackling them to the ground. "You're going to get yourself burned to a crisp!"

"I knew what I was doing!" the stranger yelled, struggling against him. The voice was familiar and he got to his feet.

"...Willow...?"

She breathed in sharply. "Wilson!"

Suddenly she was in his arms again and they were on the ground. "I thought I'd never see you again!"

"I could say the same for you!" she said, wiping tears away. He'd never seen her cry before.

"What are you doing out here? It's dangerous, even for someone like you. Didn't you see the lightning?"

"That's what set fire to this."

"...Oh." He wasn't going to admit he thought she'd done it. Not aloud.

"It didn't look like the first time," she said quietly. "This is where the shadows put me and it was already a crumbling, blackened mess. It's ironic, really. I spent so many years wishing I could burn it to the ground."

"What did it ever do to you? It's called Rainbow Times!"

She refused to meet his gaze. "It's a... a place for those who are sick, I suppose. I spent a lot of time inside there."

"Like a hospital?"

"...An asylum."

He was at a loss for words. He'd heard mixed things about asylums from members of the scientific community, some praising them as the best place to keep those who weren't fit for society and others describing horrors and torture he couldn't even begin to imagine experiencing. "Willow, I–"

"Don't say anything!" she snapped, cutting him off. "It was a long time ago. They never managed to break me, as you know."

"That doesn't matter! You were trapped there for–!"

"Six years," she finished flatly. "Six years of my childhood were spent inside those walls with the doctors in white and the chemical smell that never truly went away. They didn't release me because I was _fixed_ , as they liked to tell me so often, but because I turned eighteen and they couldn't keep me there anymore."

"And now Maxwell stole more time from you..."

"I'm going to hunt him down and burn him alive if it's the last thing I do," she confirmed. "I didn't waste my life in that hell only to have the rest stolen from me by a man who pulled rabbits from hats for a living."

He didn't have any kind of reply to that. "It's strange," he said at last.

"I know that face. That's your thinking face. Come on, Higgsbury, what hare-brained idea have you come up with now?"

"The shadows dropped me in front of my old house, and you here. Both are places we have very strong connections to. It's as though they knew or they looked in our heads for prominent memories."

"So if we think like the others–"

"–We might be able to find them, yes."

"Including that bastard, Maxwell!"

"Even him."

"Shame we don't know their full names," she mused. "We might've been able to look for their old addresses or relatives."

"Speaking of, Miss Willow, I don't know your name."

"Bennett. Willow Bennett."

"A lovely name, Miss Bennett."

"Don't patronize me, Higgsbury. I'm the only one who can call people by their last names."

He smiled and took her hand. "Yes, it's strange. I don't think I like it."

"Let's go find the others."

* * *

 

He knew where he was without even opening his eyes. The faint smell of burning trash and people yelling to advertise street performances could have been any seedy back alley in any major city, but he'd spent too much time there to just forget it. Even after being trapped for so long.

He slowly opened his eyes and breathed in the familiar smell. It was an improvement to the musty one that he was used to. It was then he became aware of two things: he was laying on the ground and there was a small child sprawled out on top on him. What concerned him more was the fact that he knew the child.

"Wendy, my dear, get off of me."

She grunted and did as she was told, adjusting the flower in her hair. "Where...?"

He finally got to his feet and pulled his glasses out of his coat pocket, staring at the building in front of them. It looked to be an ordinary apartment complex but he knew better. "Get up. I want to show you something."

"Uncle Max, it's just a building."

He gave her a tired smile. "No, this was once the greatest theater in New York. Only the best performed here."

She rubbed at her eyes and frowned. "Looks like a building. Abigail agrees."

"What if I told you I used to perform here?"

"You're lying."

"You don't believe me? I was the best magician on this side of the country!"

"You're not supposed to lie to people. Especially impressionable kids."

"Wendy, please just listen to me. Go up to that man selling hot dogs and ask him what he knows about The Amazing Maxwell."

"I'm not supposed to talk to strangers."

He clenched his fists and tried to maintain a smile. "Were you always this... _infuriating_? I'm giving you permission to talk to the man."

"Then I don't want to."

He grabbed her by the wrist and walked over there himself, offering the man his most winning smile. He knew it was more likely a grimace after his entrapment for so long.

"My good sir, what can you tell me about that building there? Do you know it's history?"

"I ain't here to make small talk. Buy a dog or move on."

Wendy giggled. "Abigail's laughing at you."

He pinched the bridge of his nose, pushing his glasses up. "Never mind then, I suppose."

She squeezed his hand tighter. "It's okay, Uncle Max. I'm sure you were a great magician. I saw one of your flyers in a photo album once."

"Why you–!"

"Who's Charlie? She was there, too."

He stopped short, his whole body going cold. "We don't talk about her," he said, his voice tight. Would you like a hot dog?"

"No, I want to know who Charlie is."

"...Was. She _was_ my assistant before I tampered with magic not meant for this world. I'm afraid she joined us in that hell, though not as a prisoner like you and I."

"Hell is a curse word," she interrupted.

"Do you want to hear this story or not?" he snapped. "I can't even imagine what it would be like if your sister were here. I can't handle one of you!"

All he got in return was a toothy smile. He couldn't remember the last time anyone had smiled at him. Certainly not family.

"You said she got trapped like us. Doesn't that mean she'd be here?"

"I told you, she wasn't like us. She was... different."

"So were you but you're still here."

"Wendy, darling, she was a monster."

"Abigail's still here," she argued.

"Do you remember how strange things in the dark would hurt you, even though there was nothing there?"

"Of course."

"That was Charlie. I'm afraid the darkness got to her."

"If she was part of this world once I still think she should be here."

"It just doesn't make sense–"

But it did. The young girl had a point. Even he, King of the Nightmare Throne, was back. What was to say Charlie wasn't as well?

He grabbed her hand again. "We need to get home. I have some things I need to look into."

"Does this mean she might be here?" she asked excitedly. "Oh, I've always wanted to meet her!"

He smiled–a real smile–for the first time in what felt like forever. "I think the two of you will get along splendidly."

Unbeknownst to the Carters, they were being watched. A figure stood in the shadows, listening as they prattled on. She smiled. He hadn't changed at all. Not even They could break his spirit.

She desperately wished she could call out to him but knew it would end in disaster. She wasn't as strong as him and They had finally gotten to her, turning her into a monster. Nothing could undo that so she resigned herself to watching from afar and making sure he kept out of trouble again. If she couldn't apologize for the past she would prevent such a tragedy from happening in the future.

"I'm sorry, Maxy," she whispered. "I won't let this happen again."

**Author's Note:**

> I don't really have an explanation for why I wrote this. Self-Indulgent, maybe? I hope you like it regardless of my reasoning. I'm pretty proud of how it turned out, considering I don't play the game that often and really only do so to learn more about the characters.


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